


wherever you stray i'll follow (anywhere else is hollow)

by youareiron_andyouarestrong



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Epistolary, F/M, Love Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28422543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: It began right after they’d gotten married, the exchange of letters, real letters, paper in an envelope and everything. Jyn was the one who suggested it, because paper could be easier to obtain than wifi in some places or a reliable signal. “Think of it as a journal,” she said to him. “Just you, me, and the paper.”Cassian had taken her hands in his, lightly circling her wrists. “What should I write?”“Whatever you want,” Jyn said. “What you ate for lunch, how the work is going.” She looked slyly at him from under her lashes. “Whatever dreams you had about me the night before.”Cassian didn’t blush exactly, but the tips of his ears did go a bit pink. She loved to see it, one of his little tells only she knew. “You want…” the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried valiantly to keep a straight face. “You want me to write...dirty letters to you?”
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 23
Kudos: 75
Collections: The RebelCaptain Network Secret Santa Exchange





	wherever you stray i'll follow (anywhere else is hollow)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anothersadsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anothersadsong/gifts).



As a general rule, Jyn communicated with Cassian in the usual way. Phone calls, emails, texts, FaceTime. Even Twitter DMs and Instagram stories (not that Cassian really  _ used  _ Instagram, he only had it so he could see picture of his nieces and nephews, and Bodhi’s puppy). But sometimes his job sent him afield, sometimes for more than a year. Jyn, the daughter of a scientist and a naturalist, knew that the internet could be spotty in the field, phone service unreliable. 

It began right after they’d gotten married, the exchange of letters,  _ real  _ letters, paper in an envelope and everything. Jyn was the one who suggested it, because paper could be easier to obtain than wifi in some places or a reliable signal. “Think of it as a journal,” she said to him. “Just you, me, and the paper.”

Cassian had taken her hands in his, lightly circling her wrists. “What should I write?”

“Whatever you want,” Jyn said. “What you ate for lunch, how the work is going.” She looked slyly at him from under her lashes. “Whatever dreams you had about me the night before.”

Cassian didn’t blush exactly, but the tips of his ears did go a bit pink. She loved to see it, one of his little tells only she knew. “You want…” the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried valiantly to keep a straight face. “You want me to write...dirty letters to you?”

“You know…” Jyn lifted her arms to link her hands behind his head. His hands slid from her wrists to her elbows, his head tilted back to look her in the eye. “Exchanging erotic letters to your spouse during times of separation is a time honored tradition.”

Cassian looked like he couldn’t quite believe they were casually discussing erotic letters in their sunny nook of a kitchen, but like for most of the things Jyn starts, he’s game. “Really.” She loved the little crooked smile lingering in the corner of his mouth, the fondness in the crinkle of his eyes. 

Amused that he was letting her run with this, Jyn nodded seriously. “Oh yes. It’s romantic, you know? Sending letters across the divide between us, yearning,  _ pining _ for the other…” she leaned forward enough to rest her forehead against his. “Telling the other all the things you want to do to them, once they get back…all those pent up longings and fantasies...well. And then, of course, the  _ reunion… _ ”

Cassian’s breathing caught, his arms looped around her waist and suddenly pulling her flush against him. She stood between his legs at their little kitchen table, the mid morning sun pouring down on their heads, a warm little pool of the two of them. Jyn watched his face, watched his eyes go dazed and cloudy, remembering the times he had come back from a long assignment. The ones where they wouldn’t see each other for weeks, or months. How Jyn would grab him by the lapels of his favorite traveling jacket, drag him to bed, and they would spend the rest of the evening reacquainting themselves with each other. Only coming up for air to eat and use the bathroom, twined together in their sleep. 

“You make a strong case,” he said finally. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Good,” Jyn said, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and then his mouth. They had things to do, sadly enough, to prevent them from following the topic of conversation to its natural conclusion. But that was fine. There was always later.

So that was the start of it. Such assignments for Cassian were rare. Sometimes a whole year would go by, maybe two, before they needed to undergo an extended separation. But then there would be the big ones. The ones where he needed to be gone for five months, six months, even eight. Those were the ones that Jyn would write him, letters sent to remote corners of the globe, or big, bustling foreign metropolises. 

This article, this current one, would keep him from that April to the next January. And that was if things went  _ well _ . So Jyn bought good quality paper for him and the kind of pens that were supposed to last seven years and function underwater, if they had to. Cassian looked up postal offices, different stamps. 

On the eve before their separation, they had a small dinner between them and their friends. To see Cassian off, to wish him well and safety. Jyn held his hand under the table and tried to memorize the way their fingers fit together. The way the light shone on Cassian’s hair and the way his fingers curled around his wineglass. All those little details that would come back to her when she was alone in their bed, sleeping in his sweatshirt. 

Cassian glanced her way and squeezed her hand. Brought it up to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. Jyn smiled back and focused on the now.

*

It always a pattern. For Jyn, the first two weeks would be fine. Functional, manageable. She could almost talk herself into thinking that that was an overnight trip for Cassian and he’d be back the next night. 

Then the third week would hit. And the missing him would fall on her head like a ton of bricks. 

They would call, text, email. FaceTime or send funny memes to each other in their DMs. It would always be like that, the first two months of the assignment. Then Cassian would have to move further and further into the job. And the texts, calls and DMs would slow down to a trickle. That was when Jyn knew to expect a letter from him, soon. 

The first of the letters arrived in June. Jyn tucked the envelope into her inner jacket pocket and carried around with her during the day, like a talisman. When she finally got home and was  _ done _ for the day, she curled up in their bed, put on her favorite sweatshirt of Cassian’s, and pulled it out to read. 

_ Mi vida,  _ the letter began, Cassian’s favorite endearment for her. 

_ It’s the third month of this assignment. You know this already, but writing it down always lets me feel like it’s more manageable. Or insurmountable. That depends on how I’m feeling each day. You always tell me the third month is the hardest, like the hour of 3 am, and you were right, as you  _ _ almost _ _ always are. (Don’t make faces at me.) The third month always finds me roaming around this tiny flat, drinking too much coffee and staring at too many screens. I know that’s one of the reasons why you insisted on us writing letters instead of sending emails, so I don’t go blind prematurely (very wise of you).  _

_ I like writing on paper to you, mi vida. I like the sound and scratch of the pen on the paper, the idea of you opening the envelope with your dad’s old letter opener when you receive it. You probably already knew that, which is why you insisted. I like the idea of you reading it over and over again, putting it away in the drawer by your bedside, to keep it close to you.  _

_ I want to be close to you in all things. In all ways. I promised myself that this wouldn’t become one of  _ _ those _ _ letters until later on in this assignment, when the missing you got too much to bear, but I’m not a patient man, mi amor. I can see you raising your eyebrows at me, unimpressed and disbelieving, but when it comes to you... no, mi vida, I am not patient. I am ravenous.  _

_ I want our bed. I want our bed with the soft sheets and the blankets you bought from the mercado when I took you to meet my parents. I want the sheets I picked out under the duvet that you bought because it had stars on it, and you liked the idea of sleeping under a starry sky. You said it reminded you of camping trips with your dad, and then later, with me. _

_ I want  _ _ you  _ _ in our bed, soft and sleepy and warm. I want the look in your eyes when you wake me up at some ungodly hour, on top of me and your hand in my shorts, smiling so sweet and innocent, when you say, “Cass...” You know I can never resist you when you say my name like that, so I don’t even try.  _

_ I want your mouth, god Jyn, I want it so bad. I dream of all the ways I want it. Kisses and bites all over me, until I’m begging you for release, for relief. The way you bite the soft part of my throat and sink your teeth into it, until I’m writhing and begging, as you mark me up. You like that, I know. Putting a claim on me.  _

_ I hope you know I can feel how hot my ears are, writing this, but all I can think of is you, reading it, and wanting me just as much. That’s the only way I can stand this.  _

_ Soy tuyo para siempre,  _

_ Cassian  _

Jyn pressed the letter to her heart and shut her eyes so hard it hurt. Curled up on her side, trying to breath through the sudden pain like it was a punch to the ribs. Picturing Cassian, sitting at a tiny, rickety table in a shabby flat, writing this to her, his ears now red, biting his lip and maybe sneaking a hand down into his pants—

A whimper escaped Jyn before she could stop it. She couldn’t call him and talk him into an orgasm like she wanted to. She couldn’t send him a text or a picture accompanying it. She couldn’t do  _ any  _ of that, just curl up in that bed and miss his presence so badly it  _ hurt,  _ and the hurt was almost enough to cover the ache and the dampness that the picture his words conjured up. 

“Cass, you bastard,” she breathed out, not even really meaning it. “Oh you bastard, how dare you make me miss you this much.” 

There would be no sleep until she wrote something back. So she got out of bed and got her pad of letter writing paper, her good pen and the lap desk that had been her mother’s. 

_ My Cassian, _

_ I see your cunning plan now. After writing a letter like that, you knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep after reading it, so I would have to write to you instead. You’re a bad man, do you know that? Making me wet when all I’ve got are my fingers and batteries to sustain me.  _

_ Oh yes, it’s going to be one  _ _ those _ _ letters, as you put it. I don’t know where this silly idea came from that you couldn’t start writing them as soon you wanted came from. But you’re a very disciplined man, my love. It’s one of your finer qualities.  _

_ Disciplined, strong, self-contained. You’re all of those things, my love, until I’ve got you under me. But you’re so good for me then, Cass. So sweet and eager. All I want is to give you whatever you want, and what you want is to let me have my way with you. You say you dream of my mouth? _

_ I want to wake you up with my hand and my mouth, hear you moan deep in your chest like it hurts, but you want more. I want your hands in my hair as I wrap my lips around you, and to hear you beg me for relief (you see? We want the same things). And I’d give it to you, Cass. Eventually. When I’d decided you’d had enough.  _

_ You’re usually so good for me, Cass. Keeping yourself still, so careful with your thrusts. You’d never hurt me. I love it, you know I do. But then there are the times where you  _ _ can’t _ _ control yourself. When I think I could choke on you and I would love that too. _

_ I can never get enough of the taste of you, the feel. The sounds you make when you’re on the edge of release. Sweet sighs and desperate moans. Sometimes if you’re really impatient you growl at me, like a warning. I want to put your sounds in a bottle and keep it in my pocket, just to have when I want to remember. I find myself wanting to remember a lot since you’ve been gone.  _

_ There, you see, I’ve inadvertently quoted Kelly Clarkson here and now the mood has fled. But it’s already 1 am, and I need to be up in six hours.  _

_ Dream of me, and know that I am, forever your _

_ Jyn  _

*

Not all of the letters were like that, of course. Some of them were just excerpts, desperate bursts of longing, as though they couldn’t keep it back, slipping through like water seeping through the cracks. 

_ Do you know where I keep my letters from you, mi vida? In a little wooden box I picked up in one of the markets here. It’s painted blue, with shades of silver and green, and it glitters in the light. It made me think of your eyes, so I bought it, and keep all the letters you send to me in it. _

_ I keep other things in there too: some shiny quartz I’ve found, dried flowers you might like. A thin green scarf, one I plan to give you when I come home. It’s silk and light, with golden threads running through it. Maybe you can blindfold me with it.  _

Jyn’s response was near the end of her letter:

_ Maybe I will blindfold you with that scarf you bought me. Or if you’re too loud after you come home, I could just gag you with it. _

_ You’d like that, wouldn’t you sweetheart? All your noises and cries are just for me, and you’d never forget that. _

Cassian’s reply: 

_ I hope you know that I’ve almost rubbed myself raw after your last letter, and still I need release. I need you, mi vida, so much it hurts and I want more.  _

*

The phone call didn’t come until near the end of October. Jyn had just come back from Bodhi’s Halloween birthday bash, and in her heart of hearts, she hoped for a call from Cassian, if he could manage it. 

She’d barely gotten into the house before her phone began to ring, abruptly loud in their too quiet foyer. Muttering, Jyn dumped her bag on the entryway table and dug through the layers, before finally unearthing the damn thing. She frowned at the display, the “Unknown Number” flashing across the screen. “Hello?”

At first there was nothing but static on the line. And then a voice on the other end, tinny and distant, like they were shouting down a tunnel: “Jyn? Jyn,  _ mi alma, _ are you there?” 

Jyn’s heart leapt into her throat, even as she gripped the table for support. “Cass?”

A long sigh of relief in her ear. “Jyn,  _ mi vida. _ ” 

She didn’t bother to keep the joy and relief out of her voice. She felt the sound of him deep in the pit of her stomach. “Cass! Where are you?”

“I’m in the airport, Jyn,” said Cassian, and added before her heart could leap right out of her chest and land on the floor, “I’m not coming home—not yet—but I think I’ve got a break in this assignment. If it all goes well, I’ll be home sooner than we thought.” 

Jyn forced herself to move out of the foyer, into the living room, and sank down on the sofa. It was incredible how weak her knees had become at the mere  _ idea  _ of Cassian on his way home. “Do you—do you know how soon, Cass? If you can tell me?” 

More static, a voice shouting from behind somewhere. “Soon,  _ mi vida _ ,” Cassian said. “Maybe even two months earlier. I’ll write again, okay my love? I just—I just needed to hear your voice.” 

Jyn took a deep breath, a gathering of her forces. Yes. She could manage this. “Okay. Write to me as soon as you can. I love you.”

There was renewed urgency in Cassian’s voice, love and longing warring with desperation to be heard. “Jyn, Jyn,  _ mi vida, mi alma, mi corazón _ , I love you—” the line went abruptly dead.

* 

She didn’t get another letter from Cassian until November thirtieth. Thanksgiving had come and gone, and not even the annual dinner at Chirrut and Baze’s was enough to lighten Jyn’s spirits. 

But the letter did come, just as he promised, much battered and covered with almost a dozen foreign stamps she didn’t recognize. There were deep lines in the paper, as if it had been folded and unfolded many times. 

_ Mi vida, _

_ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you with that last phone call. It was one of my collaborators, trying to get me in the car, I was holding them all up. I’m okay, my Jyn. I spent the last month worried you’d think I was dead in a ditch somewhere, and I couldn’t send you any message to reassure you.  _

_ It’s been a long, long month. I was right, by the way, about the lead. It worked, and soon, sooner than I dared hope, I might be on my way home to you. I’m sorry, mi vida, that I can’t be more specific. Just know I’m working as hard as I can to get home to you. _

_ God, Jyn, just the thought of being home...I think I might lose my mind. I have to push it down, focus on my work, because if I think too much about it, I’m completely useless.  _

_ It’s not just the sex, mi vida, although,  _ _ yes, _ _ some of my collaborators tease me about all the letters I write you, or, as they put it, my lovesick longing for my wife. _

_ I tell them if they had a wife like mine, they would understand.  _

_ But they don’t. Who is like you? No one has a wife like mine, fearless and brave and steadfast as the north star. Sharp and witty and recklessly compassionate. Strong and clever and beautiful. _

_I miss_ _you,_ _my Jyn, every part of you, and there are times I wake up saying your name covered in my own come, all I can think of is the sound of your voice. Your raised eyebrow and and little smile when you think I’m being too clever for my own good. The way you scold me when I push myself too hard even as you gently pull me from my chair and into bed._

_ And yes—the way you get so soft and sweet for me when I love you, all your walls down. I never forget how lucky I am, mi vida, to be the only who gets to see you like that. _

_ I’m so tired I can barely hold the pen anymore, but all what I want to say comes down to this—I love you, I miss you. I love you, I miss you. I love you, I miss you, I love you, I miss you, I love you, love you love you— _

_ Your Cassian  _

_ P.S. If all goes well, I’ll be on my way home to you by the time you get this. Keep the porch light on for me.  _

*

He came home on the day before Christmas Eve, late in the evening. No fanfare, no preamble. Just the sound of his key unlocking the door, and his step into the softly glowing foyer, the vintage Christmas lights glowing around the ceiling. 

“Jyn?” his voice was a hoarse, travel weary rasp. “ _ Mi vida? _ ”

That had been his personal endearment for her since they started dating.  _ Mi vida,  _ my life.

She met him at their door, in her favorite sweater, soft green cashmere, in the shade that he loved, and thick fuzzy socks from her father, and black leggings. 

They just stared at each other for a moment, the reality of it overwhelming. His beard was full, but untrimmed, his hair hanging over his forehead into his eyes. Deep circles under his eyes, the scarf hanging limply around his throat and the bag dangling from his fingers. 

Then in the next moment she was moving, or he was moving. It didn’t matter. She was in his arms and her face buried into the shoulder of his jacket. He looked like he hadn’t sleep in three days and barely showered. He smelled of travel and airports and cold air. He was the most beautiful thing Jyn had ever seen or had in her arms. 

She could distantly hear Cassian muttering in Spanish into her hair, her name interspersed with “ _ mi vida, mi alma,” _ over and over again. 

“Oh,  _ Cass,” _ she breathed, her heart in her voice. “Oh, Cass,  _ never  _ again.”

“You say that every time,” he mumbled and she released him just enough to look into his face. Oh, he looked so  _ tired.  _ Tired and travel-worn and so beloved it actually hurt to look at him. 

“Leave it, leave it,” she said, as he made to pick up his bag. “We’ll get it later. Are you hungry? There’s food.”

“I’m so tired I’m not even hungry,” he said, letting her tow him along into the living room. “Just let me sit down, let me hold you. God, Jyn.”

They ended up on their sofa, arms and legs locked around each other. Jyn wrestled his jacket off, throwing it on the ground carelessly, buried her face into the skin of his throat. For all their letters and longing, sex really was the last thing on her mind. She just needed to know he was  _ there,  _ not a figment of her imagination. His arms were too tight around her, her thigh fit between his legs. It was blissful. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve called,” Cassian said finally, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “But I got the last flight out, grabbed the last taxi...it didn’t occur to me. I just wanted to get home as fast as I could.”

“I’m actually glad you didn’t,” Jyn said, trying to get as close to him as she could without crawling behind his ribcage. “If you had, I would’ve been sitting here, just losing my mind all day. Are you sure you don’t want food? It’s just chicken parm, but...”

Cassian pulled her to him a little closer. “There’s three things I want. A hot shower. Food, but in our bed, because if I sit in a chair I’ll just fall over. Then I want to put the plates aside and fall asleep besides you and wake up on Christmas Eve.” 

Jyn squeezed him hard enough to hurt. “We can do all those things. But we have to get up first.”

“Uggh,” he whined and Jyn laughed, feeling tears leak out despite her best efforts. 

Cassian pulled back enough to see her face. “ _ Ay, mi vida, no llores _ ,” he breathed. “I’m home now.”

Jyn pressed her face back into his shoulder, letting the weave of his shirt soak up the stray tears. “I’m happy. I’m so happy you’re home. I’m not going to blubber about it either. Let’s get you into that shower.” 

An hour later, Cassian was curled into her, plates scattered on the floor, absently kissing the line of her throat and shoulder. He smelled like their soap and her shampoo, warm and familiar. 

“You need to sleep, baby,” Jyn whispered, the rare pet name slipping from her lips, as Cassian gently nibbled the line of her shoulder blade. 

“I know,” he mumbled. “But if I go to sleep, I won’t wake up for the next twelve hours, probably. And I want you. I told you all the things I wanted to do to you and I don’t want to miss out on it.”

“We have the next ten days for all the things you want to do me,” Jyn reminded him. “Until Twelfth Night, at least. Sleep, darling.”

Cassian rolled over, pulling Jyn on top of his chest. “Kiss me until I fall asleep then.” 

Smiling, Jyn obliged him, soft kisses until Cassian’s lips went slack and his breathing deep. She tucked herself into his chest and closed her eyes. The rise and fall of his chest was home.

*

Cassian didn’t sleep for twelve hours. He slept for thirteen. Jyn was at least reasonably sure he got up at some point to use the bathroom, only to crawl back into bed immediately after. She moved quietly around the house, small chores, making sure the few presents under the tree were nicely grouped. Laundry, what few emails she had. What she really wanted to do was lie besides him and watch him breathe, but that was probably creepy. Even if they were married. There were limits, after all. 

He finally woke up in the late afternoon and staggered out into the kitchen where she was, his hair a bird’s nest, his face an absolute mess of beard. Rather like someone dragged him backwards through a hedge, and Jyn had never loved him more. 

“Breakfast?” he croaked, and winced. 

“Sit down,” Jyn said, waving at a chair. “I’ll make you an omelet. And coffee. Toast or tortillas?” 

“Toast,” Cassian sank into the nearest chair. “I’m not so sure if I’m still asleep.”

Jyn set a cup of coffee down in front of him and gently lifted his chin up. “Not sleeping.” She bestowed a deep kiss to his mouth. “Now drink your coffee.”

Cassian obeyed as Jyn went through the ritual of making omelets, adding his favorite salsa and bacon, getting toast. Setting the plate down before him, she passed a hand over the top of his head. “You need a haircut, my love.”

“And a shave,” he added somewhat ruefully. 

“Mmm…” Jyn bent to softly kiss his cheek. “You know I don’t mind.”

“You mind the beard burn,” Cassian murmured. “And I don’t like getting crumbs in my mustache. Let me eat woman, so I can serve you properly.” 

Jyn smiled and cleaned up as he ate, just so the kitchen would be clean before they left it for the rest of the day. She could feel the attraction simmering between them like a kindling slowly catching flame. The last pot had just been washed and Cassian put his dishware in the sink, placing his hands on Jyn’s waist and slowly turning her to face him. 

“Jyn.” She could smell coffee on his breath, the faint sweetness of the creamer. 

She rose on her toes to kiss him, properly, like she’d dreamed of doing while he was gone and Cassian’s arms went around her waist, lifting her off the floor. There was about a second of mad scrambling as Jyn got her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. 

“Bed,” Cassian muttered between kisses. “Bed,  _ now. _ ”

“You want me to get down?” Jyn asked, breathless with kisses. 

“Never,” said Cassian, and without further ado, carried her back to their bedroom. 

Clothes scattered across the floor, the covers were kicked to the end of the bed. “Phones,” Cassian said somewhat incoherently. “Off.”

“Such a smart husband I’ve got,” Jyn said fervently.

Once that was done, Jyn whipped off her shirt and threw it...somewhere. Who knew, and who cared? Cassian was staring at her like he was a starving man and someone had put his favorite meal down in front of him. 

She grinned and crooked a finger at him, and that snapped him out of it. He snatched her up right off the floor and they fell into bed, practically bouncing off the mattress in their urgency. 

Jyn shoved Cassian on his back, climbing on top of him, yanking impatiently at the waistband of his boxers. “I  _ swear, _ Cass.”

“Just rip them!” A beat as they paused to process that, and Jyn looked down and saw Cassian’s lips twitch and they both broke down laughing. At themselves, their ridiculousness.

“Oh, oh, I’ll never doubt that you love me ever again,” Jyn said, falling onto the bed besides him, clutching at her stomach with laughter. “If you let me tear your clothes off.  _ Literally. _ ” Cassian by far being the much fussier dresser out of the two of them. 

“True love,” Cassian wheezed, until they calmed down enough to lie quietly besides each other.

Cassian settled himself on top of her now, tracing her features with the tip of a finger. “ _ Mi mujer, _ ” he murmured. “No one makes me laugh like you.”

His lips followed his fingers. “Is that I all do for you?” Jyn asked, gasping a little as Cassian’s hand slid between them. 

“You drive me crazy,” Cassian muttered, the last desire for laughter fleeing. Now it was just the two of them, their bed, and no interruptions. “You make me lose my mind,” Cassian continued, panting as he stroked her slowly, making Jyn arch her back off the bed. “No one else but you. You are all I want.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jyn said blindly, as gasped as she fell over the edge, clutching at Cassian’s shoulders. She lay underneath him, whimpering a little as Cassian scooted down the bed, drawing her legs over his shoulders. “Oh,  _ Cass _ —”

“All I want,” Cassian muttered, “all I need.” And he buried his face between her legs. 

Jyn  _ wailed.  _ It had been far too long, and every nerve she ever had sprang to fierce, insistent life. 

“Missed you, missed you,” she said incoherently as Cassian pulled her closer to his mouth, “oh, I missed you so much, don’t stop Cass, keep doing that, keep going—” 

Time took on the quality of dripping honey—slow and unbearably sweet. She lost track of everything else, except Cassian and his hands on her, his mouth. She unraveled beneath both, and pulled at his shoulders feebly, trying to get him within reach again. “Come here, come here—”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Cassian panted. “I’m here, Jyn.” 

Jyn dragged him back to her, hitching a leg over his hip. “ _ Now,  _ Cassian. No more waiting.”

“No more,” Cassian agreed, the two of them groaning in tandem. “No more waiting—”

Jyn bucked her hips up into his. Clenched her hands in his hair, savored his long, heartfelt moan. This was what she wanted, forever and ever, world without end, amen. Him, with her, in her, always.  _ No one but you _ , she thought, even as they moved together.  _ Never anyone but you.  _

Some time later, sprawled on top of him, both of them sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids, Jyn rested her cheek on his chest. She could spend the rest of her life like this and be perfectly happy. “Hey,” she murmured eventually. 

She felt more than heard his rumbled “Hmm?” in reply. 

“Welcome home,” she said, and his lips pressed to her hair. 

“You’re where I live,” he said very simply and Jyn breathed out, feeling her weary world rejoice. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, Lauren! I hope you enjoy this piece.


End file.
